Stand By You
by OperationNiclor
Summary: After a tragedy that left them wounded in college, Regina, Robin and Marian became lives on the move. Particularly, Regina Mills, who began a pattern of physically moving to avoid her problems. But now after birth, death, miles, and years, Regina finally chooses to stand still, but will someone stand by her when the trio is faced with yet another tragedy?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** Hello, hello! If you were thinking you could get rid of Taylor and Nicole, you, my friends, were sadly mistaken. We have taken it upon ourselves to co-write a story together and we are so excited to share in this journey with you all! This will be multi-chaptered and split between Regina and Robin's POVs, and again, is co-written by the two of us._

 _For any of you who have expressed concern over the publications of our other works, don't worry! All of our other fics will be published concurrently with this one. Updates might just be a bit slower for each though, haha._

 _We hope you enjoy and please let us know what you think!_

 _Cover art by our lovely friend Annie who's at ibreathenumbers on twitter and fromthemiddleoftheocean on tumblr!_

* * *

 _Home_.

It's something Regina Mills hasn't had in so long that even the mere word feels foreign in her thoughts. The concept of having a home, feeling at home, has been a concept she hasn't allowed her mind dare wander to in the past five years.

Until now.

Now she stands outside, beneath the sweltering sun of Atlanta's summer, her stare fixated on the exterior of a four bedroom, three bathroom, two story craftsman style house- her house, the physical manifestation of what her home is supposed to be.

She had purchased it and had it professionally furnished, the new build in a tranquil suburb just off the main drag that leads downtown, while she had been on the road (on the tracks, in the air, Regina has become quite accustomed to various means of transportation over the years) and this was her first time seeing it, in person, as the owner.

Heat sticks to her skin as her eyes stick to the stucco and stone that make up the siding of the residence, anxiety blooming in the pit of her stomach, her fingers curling tighter, her knuckles turning whiter as a result, around the handle of her suitcase.

She's finally settling; after five years, two months, and sixteen days, to be exact, spent as a freelance reporter, bouncing from location to location, sleeping anywhere from a five-star hotel to an overrun hostel on any given night, with only the occasional weekend trip back to Georgia, where she was born and raised, Regina is now settling into a life of stability- a life she had secretly dreamed of.

And, yet, she can't shake the feeling that something is missing.

Scratch that - she _knows_ something is missing.

Taking a deep breath, she tugs at her suitcase and slowly walks up the pathway, climbs the stairs of the porch and using the key in her opposite hand, she opens the front door and enters her house, enters her home.

Regina walks about the first floor, glancing around the dining room, running her fingers over the granite countertops in the kitchen (one that she is already itching to start cooking, baking, destressing in), and circles back around to the living area.

The designer captured her style effortlessly, it appears. It's all dark accents and white linens, clean lines and comfortable features. She kicks off her heels, ones that were nowhere near suitable the seven hour plane flight she had just come from, and feels the fluffy white rug covering a large portion of the hardwood flooring beneath her toes. She exhales, contentment making it's way through her bones as she shuffles closer to the electric fireplace, has ideas of lighting it, even though the weather outside is unbearably warm, pouring herself a glass of Pinot and curling up on the suede sofa against the wall and marathoning _Scandal_ on Netflix until she's too tired to keep her eyes open to see Olivia Pope's next situation to handle.

But those plans evaporate from her head as Regina's eyes are drawn away from the fireplace and to the mantel that hangs above it, dark cherry hardwood that she had pictured strewing assorted scented candles upon when her realtor had first shown her the house.

Except now she'll have to make room for them.

Sitting beside the interior designer's touches (a white silver mosaic vase and a vintage style black alarm clock) are a series of picture frames- filled picture frames.

One holds an old photo, a perfect example of her childhood actually- posed and stiff - of a 12-year-old Regina sat between her parents, Henry and Cora, in a family portrait. She mirrors her former self, frowning at the image. Not caring to delve into those long-buried issues, her gaze is lured towards the next frame.

Towards the people who, for years, she considered closer to her than her own parents- and, concurrently, issues she has yet to bury.

One picture is of a child, a little boy to be specific, with head full of big, brown curls and a face hosting even bigger dimples bookending his lips as he smiles, bright and innocent, at the camera that had been pointing at him, the one Regina had been aiming at him. She had captured that moment at his fourth birthday party last year when, on a rare occasion, she had been able to travel back home, surprising her "little knight", resulting in a high-pitched squeal of "Auntie 'Gina!" that Regina can, to this day, hear echoing in her mind.

His name, her honorary nephew, is Roland and he appears in another picture adorning the shelf, but in this one he's blowing out the candles of his Batman-themed birthday cake, his parents flanking either side of his miniature figure. Robin and Marian Locksley, donning cheerful, proud expressions in the photo, have barely aged since college, which is where Regina had met them both.

And speaking of the collegiate period in their lives, the last picture is one that has her skin prickling, her pulse racing, and her heart pounding. It contains a younger version of herself, a more naive version of herself. She's laughing, this other Regina, her nose scrunched, her eyes shining, a hand raised in a "rock on!" symbol as her other one leans on Marian's, whose tongue is sticking out playfully and whose eyes are closed, shoulder. The girls, the ones in the photo, the ones who had yet to experience the difficulties of life, are perched upon laps. Regina on Robin's, his chin on her shoulder with his expression contorted into a goofy one, including crossed eyes.

Meanwhile, it's whose lap Marian is sitting on that has Regina's breath constricting in her throat: _Daniel_.

He was always a cute guy. With kind, blue eyes and pale, smooth skin, he was the person you could always depend on, the friend everyone wished they could have- the friend Regina _did_ have, once upon a time.

In the picture, he's got his lips puckered, his eyes comically wide, one arm curled around Marian's waist, the other slung across Robin's back, with his hand resting on Regina's shoulder.

Her gaze drifts back to herself and Robin, remembers how relaxed she had been in his embrace- when that photo was taken and every other time. Remembers how his stumble, one that she always wonders if he continues to retain even with Marian's insistence that he shave it, would tickle her neck, how he'd make her laugh, make them all laugh, how she'd feel the humble of joy in his chest, and how he'd squeeze a bit tighter, wrap her up in his arms a bit more firmly when she'd cry into his chest about a poor grade, with doubts of her abilities to be a writer, ones that he always abated for her.

Not that reminiscing on those details is productive, nor, probably, healthy.

She's not sure how these photos, this one in particular, with the three people who are- were - _are_ \- the ones she loves most in the world, came to squat on her mantel. Though, she can't help but stare at it, them, for another few seconds.

It's the best representation that Regina's can possibly conjure of the four of them, of that period in their lives. Comfortably close, silly and carefree, the best of friends.

And she suddenly realizes how it has appeared in a thick, black-rimmed frame on her mantel.

She grasps her purse from where she had unceremoniously dropped it with her suitcase, near the front door, fishing out her iPhone and scrolling until 'Maid Marian' catches her line of vision.

She had asked Marian to oversee the designer and movers while she was still out of town, had wanted to come home (a word she's still having trouble repeating to herself, be it physical or emotional) to a fully furnished house, where she could, as she's done, drop her bags and just live. And despite an obscene amount of money Regina was paying for professional services, one could never be too cautious with their possessions.

Marian had happily agreed, still elated by the fact that her friend was moving within driving distance from her after years of only seeing one another, in the flesh, for barely once every twelve months, Regina supposes. And in that elation, it seems, she took it upon herself to add touches the designer didn't, _memories_ the designer couldn't.

Regina hits call and plops onto the couch, the one that is, indeed, perfectly comfy for fictional White House shenanigans and getting slightly more tipsy than a 28-year-old woman probably should by herself.

The phone barely rings once before the call is hastily answered.

"Are you here?" Marian's familiar voice, more enthusiastic than normally, breathes in through the speaker and Regina can't help but smile.

"Yes," She confirms, her grin stretching wider across her lips and nearly splits her face when she hears her friend release a small squeak of delight, "And I see you assisted the designer. I do hope you got paid for that, dear."

Regina expects to hear Marian's signature giggle, a melodic mix of her pal's soft, honeyed tone with a throaty chuckle, however, she is met with silence on the other end of the line. After a moment, now a melancholy question comes through, "You're already at the house?"

 _Ah_ , now she understands.

"I didn't want to ask you to drop everything and pick me up from the airport, Marian; that's what Uber is for anyway."

"Well," Marian sighs, and Regina can practically see the smirk she imagines to be developing on her former roommate's rosy, full lips as she continues, "I suppose you _can_ afford that, can't you, Ms. Editor?"

Regina laughs loudly and rolls her eyes in amusement, "And here comes the razzing, alright, give me what you got, Maid."

"Calm down, Your Majesty," She teases in return and Regina can't deny how nice it feels to fall back into a natural exchange, nicknames and all, yet her smile falters as Marian says, "I'm not going to make fun of you. I'm proud of you, of all you've accomplished. Though, as selfishly ecstatic as I am, I must admit I'm still shocked that you decided to take a local job."

"Waiting for CNN to offer me a position was becoming tedious," Regina tries to counter with the same playfulness, but can hear her own voice waiver a bit. She doesn't expect Marian to even have an inkling of why she truly wanted to return, to put down roots.

"Hey, maybe you'll get to interview Robin about the show! Did you watch last season? I think it was the best yet."

Of course she watched, Regina has watched every show Robin has produced, but despite that fact, and the hopefulness in Marian's voice as she suggests a collaboration of some sort between her husband and friend, Regina gently dismisses the notion with a "Oh, I don't think I'll be doing much field work. I'll be kept busy at a desk."

"I want to see you!" Marian suddenly exclaims, "Before you're chained up in some office and in person, where we can't lose a connection like FaceTime always manages to do." Regina is silent for a moment, a moment too long, it appears, because she's on the receiving end of a sales pitch, "Come on! We can go to the bar, have dinner, and eat food that I, as someone in the medical field, should probably advise against. I'll have Robin watch Roland so it can just be a girl's day."

At the mention of Marian's family, Regina swallows hard, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, nipping nervously. She searches her mind for a response, as always when she communicates with Marian, it's a balance of conveying a coolness while concealing her emotions, ones that after five years of separation and roaming anywhere that _wasn't_ Atlanta, she thought, she'd be able to better suppress.

"You know what," Marian begins, "I'm not giving you the opportunity to say no. We're going. Put on your stupid heels..."

"Excuse me for liking something a little sleeker than converse," Regina rebuts, teasingly, and feels lighter as their conversation starts to tread more familiar territory. They had debated clothing, shoes in particular, since the day they met at UGA's freshman orientation. "How do you walk in those things?" Marian had asked of Regina's four inch kitten heels while Regina had volleyed back, "With poise and composure. How do you walk in those flat, dirty things? Might as well go barefoot." It hadn't taken long for them to become fast friends.

And remain, though perhaps not as close as they had once envisioned, friends to this day.

So Regina sighs, stands to her feet as she retrieves her, as Marian called them, "stupid heels", slipping them back on as she says, "Okay, I'll meet you there in fifteen."

"Great! I'll-" But Marian is interrupted and the line goes muffled for a moment, Regina wonders if the call dropped, if she has to send another strongly worded e-mail to her provider, but then she hears: "Roland Daniel Locksley, you are _not_ having ice cream before dinner!"

And Regina's heart stutters in her chest.

Marian's laugh, closer and more distinct, fills the line again, as Regina tries to calm her breathing, "Sorry about that! A mother's work is never done, can't wait for you to experience this chaos someday."

Regina manages to mutter a half-hearted chortle, then quickly confirms their plans for dinner and hangs up the phone call as soon as the last syllable in Marian's goodbye is spoken.

She drops onto the sofa, tossing her phone to her side, and allows her head to fall forward into the hands she has propped up on her knees.

Regina knows what's been absent in her life, has known for quite some time, has only voiced it to herself, alone, as she had done research online or passed by certain aisles in department stores, has been debated if what she wants fits with what she has, or rather had, this move, this house she now resides in, a step in marrying her desires and her ability.

And hearing Marian, just now, on the phone, she feels more certain than ever.

Regina Mills doesn't just want a home, she wants a family.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Wow, thank you all so much for your reviews and your response to this! Again, we are so excited to share this with you and we cannot wait for you to see where we are going, just as we cannot wait to get there. Enjoy!_

* * *

 _Family_.

That's all Robin Locksley has—which has mostly been manifested in a little boy with curls galore and dimples to absolutely die for, and ones that could certainly sway you in whatever direction it is that he wants, particularly when it comes to the world's finer offering of ice cream. However, there are two people in this world who are immune to his powers, a facet Roland Locksley is none too fond of, and what is more than likely the reason why he is currently curled up in his daddy's lap, crying his precious heart out. Though, little did Roland know, that his father was more than likely going to cave and let him have some ice cream once his mother left.

However, in the world of parenting Olympics, Marian, Roland's mother and honestly Robin's better half, will still turn out the victor for the evening, when she inevitably tells their son just who exactly she's going to meet.

Regina Mills—a household name, that's for sure, and one that's often been a name ricocheted off of the walls of Robin's very own home for many years now. She was an old college friend, or at least that's what Robin would tell people now, but truthfully, Regina was so much more than a faint memory that garnered nothing but a passing thought every now and again. But it's easier that way, pretending that she wasn't some glorious starlight in Robin and Marian's life or even vice versa. Because along with the memories of Regina, comes the bitter and irreversible traumas.

It's not like Regina caused those memories, if anything she's the least likely to blame, but she facilitates the fragments of those very memories that still tug at Robin's heart and kick him in the teeth when he least expects it. He wishes it could be different, but it isn't. It just is what it is. No take backs, no way to make up for it.

He hasn't seen much of her in their five years since graduating college, what with her need to move around from place to place.

 _It's for her muse_ , she'd excused, saying how she needed to move around to help her muse find it's place with whatever her next novel was. But all roads lead back to Atlanta, even for Regina Mills, so like it or not, she always found her way back to pop in, much to the jubilation of Roland, who believed the sun and the stares shone out of Regina's eyes.

She and Marian were also close. In fact, it was Marian (though she denies it profusely) who manipulated Regina into coming home in the first place. Of course, it'd been Regina's choice but that didn't stop Marian from prodding.

He thinks Marian has just been lonely. It can be rather tiring with two rambunctious lads, thirsty for adventure and the wilder side of life.

Marian needed someone who would be much more socially sobering. Then again, Regina did have her fair share of social exploits in university.

But, all in all, if nothing than for Marian's (and Roland's) sake, he's glad Regina Mills is back in their lives—this time hopefully a bit more permanently.

Although, Robin will be sure to just keep his distance, as he has for many years now, because that's what's best—because that is what makes sense—a necessity to keep the balance as it is. Especially, for Roland.

"Alright, up, up now," Robin gently coerces his son to deconstruct from the tight ball he's wrapped himself into and sit next to him on the couch and Roland does so, making sure to keep a prevalent pout because that will surely get Daddy to give him his way. And naturally, he succeeds. Robin drops his voice to nothing more than a mere whisper to speak between them, "Okay, my boy, if you can behave yourself for just a few more minutes then we'll see about that ice cream, sound good? But we mustn't tell Mummy, okay?"

Roland nods dutifully, curls bobbing along and instantly his tears have dissipated into nothing, as though they were never there in the first place. If only Marian were there to observe such a feat.

As if on cue, she comes bounding back down the half-way carpet covered stairs, panting and shooting a knowing look to both the boys because she knows when Roland's tears have magically dried up that Robin has let him have his way. He's sure they both look sheepish but Marian's piercing stare isn't held for long. Instead, she asks if Robin has seen her 'black heels with the silver studs trailing up both sides' but, of course, he hasn't the slightest clue what she's talking about. That doesn't stop him, however, from rising, as a devoted husband should, to help her find said pair of shoes.

When they're out of earshot of Roland, Robin queries, "So, is she settling in okay?"

"I don't really know. I haven't actually gone to see her yet, Robin," she teases lightly, as they reach the door to their bedroom and they file in together.

"You think she's actually going to stay this time?"

She sighs softly, losing a bit of her playfulness and he hates doing that to her, being a drag but he has to get it out. "I don't know. I hope so."

He watches as her beautifully bronze shoulders lift and fall in doubt and worry, and he responds with placing his palms on them, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

Marian's always had such a big heart, one that is desperate to tend to the wounds of others and care until her heart's content. And throughout the past five years, she's been worried for Regina, worried that she hasn't been coping correctly or worried that she might die off in some distant country and Marian would be the last to know—something he profusely reminded Marian was incorrect because he would surely be the last to know; Marian would know first out of the two of them, at the very least—a contribution that always puts a bit of a smile on his wife's face.

But that worry still reflects in her eyes and in her muscles, which are tensed beneath his hands, now. He tries to ease them, pressing a kiss into the crook of her neck and he feels her deflate a little beneath his touch. If only his kisses could take away every ounce of sadness that drenched her veins, and tried to poison her heart.

Robin feels her begin to shift beneath him but he only tightens his grip, settling his chin where his lips had just left. "Have fun tonight darling," he tells her softly, then muses just briefly, before adding, "And try not to scare our new built in babysitter away."

He knew that it would lighten her mood and he succeeds, even if it means that he gets an elbow straight to the gut. His cry of pain that follows is warranted, though, entirely unnecessary given that it didn't really cause him much pain.

"Maybe it's not Regina who should be scared," she informs him coyly, while triumphantly wriggling out of his grasp to cross the room over to their bed, where she falls to her knees to become eyelevel with its underside.

Magically, those very shoes she couldn't find two seconds ago suddenly materialize before their eyes, leaving Robin doubtless over whether or not his wife knew where her shoes were. It's a little quirk that she has, to seemingly misplace things only to mysteriously find them moments later, but he loves her all the more for it, even if that means running a bit late for dinner because she's lost the car keys or her wallet, or Roland is late to kindergarten because she swears she left his backpack by the door and "someone had to have moved it."

As she's rising, Robin chuckles softly, jesting, "Well, perhaps Regina can come live here and I can go live in her swanky new house that you dedicated far too much time to and subsequently neglected your husband, " he pouts.

Marian just rolls her eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Locksley."

He watches as she falls backward onto the bed to put her heels on each foot, dexterously belting and tightening the strap on the shoe as she asks, "So what will you boys be up to… other than disobeying me?" She looks up at him for the latter half of the phrase, a smirk perched upon her lips and an eyebrow cocked nearly up to her hairline.

"Oh you know the usual," he tells her with a shrug, "Drink a few beers, get Roland that 'mum in barbed wire' tattoo he's been asking for…"

"Shut up, smart ass." Marian tries to suppress a grin, as she crosses back over to Robin, walking straight into his lips for a quick peck and then grabbing her black worn leather cross-body bag that she uses for her seldom nights out to the bar, off of the bathroom door handle where it usually sits for whatever abnormal reason that Marian wants it there for. When she loops it over her shoulder, she returns to her place in front of Robin and finishes, "Look, just don't get Roland too drunk, I don't want him having a bad hangover tomorrow as he's going over the alphabet."

Robin responds with a salute and yet another quick peck to his wife's lips, "I suppose that's only fair."

Marian doesn't verbally respond and it's quiet for a moment as she straightens her wine and black colored, knee-length dress, which hugs her curves in the most delicious way, leaving Robin unable to not admire her for just a moment.

It isn't until Marian is asking him something that he has to come back down to focus.

"Are you working, tomorrow or not?"

"Oh," he smiles nervously, scrubbing the back of his neck, "uh, no, studio is shut down tomorrow."

"Again?"

Yes, _again_ , a fact Robin doesn't really care to linger on for too long, because it might just eat him alive. He hasn't the heart to tell her, yet—hasn't the heart to tell her that they're going under and that the show is on the chopping block this season, meaning it's more than likely to get axed—and the new season hasn't even started. In fact, on _Daily Entertainment,_ they've already speculated the imminent demise of _A Hopeless Robotic_ and Robin isn't too sure that they're wrong.

It's all the company's fault. They shouldn't have put Isaac Heller on as an executive creator for the show. He's a nightmare, truly, running things in a tyrannical sort of way and ignoring any ideas that don't congeal enough with his own for him to assume as his own. When Heller first arrived, he was bright eyed and bushy tailed and cooperative, excited, even, to work with the writers on the show, but as the power slowly crept to his head, the writers—Robin included—had no say on the executive decisions made by Heller. He created the ideas and Robin, and what's left of the writing team, just had to put it into words.

TV partners in crime, August Booth and Neal Cassidy had been the original creators and executive producers of the show and they were far more receptive to ideas but when Neal got into a wee bit of legal trouble and left the company in a lurch, they quickly threw in Heller, who's show _Heroes & Villains_ had just ended. Surprisingly, that show was a total success but this one is at the end of its rope already, all odds against them. The company thought that it would be beneficial to have such a successful writer on the show but they were sadly mistaken. It's only exacerbated the painful death that the show is experiencing.

And then there's poor August, who can't get along with the man to save his life and, of course, Isaac has the company back, making it nearly impossible for August to say anything about the production without tanking his dream. Now, August is staying as far away as he can from it until he absolutely has to return. Robin hates seeing it—a writer's worst nightmare reflected in August's eyes. He's lost what he loves the most and there's no way of fixing it. Now, he might just lose it altogether, something August seems to be less concerned with as each day passes, particularly while he's holed up in Phuket.

But Robin continuously stays as vigilant as he can through the whole situation. Honestly, if he didn't have a family to support he would've bowed out ages ago but Marian and Roland are a priority. They could try and survive off of Marian's nurse salary but this is his dream after all. Too bad, that's turning into a bonafide night terror.

"Robin?"

"Yeah," Robin answers wearily, rubbing across his lids with his thumb and middle fingers, ending with them pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's just a mess up there, love, don't worry about it too much. They'll sort it all out."

But Marian is unfazed, holding fast to her skeptical gaze on her husband.

"I promise, it's all gonna be okay," he soothes, although, he's not certain exactly who it's meant for, but for now he let's the whole of the room believe it's for Marian because he knows things will work out. It's just a rough patch.

"Okay…"

He brightens, then, trying his damned hardest to lift the mood "C'mon you, we've got to get you off to your date, lest you turn into a pumpkin."

Marian doesn't argue and just concedes to Robin's wishes, trailing after him back downstairs where Roland is sitting on the couch, eyes glued to a rerun of _Good Luck Charlie_ , which Robin knows he's seen at least three times before, but he's nevertheless, as invested as before. However, he eventually does take a moment to strip away his attention to ask, "Daddy, did you write this show?"

Something Robin laughs heartily at before responding that no, he didn't and reminding him that he writes a show about a guy who's a robot and has to pretend to be human to fit in.

"Are robots real, Daddy?"

Marian is snickering behind him because they both know now that Robin is in for a long night of excessive questions, which will only fuel more questions as they get answered. Robin's none too put off by it though. Roland's innocent and benign curiosity for the little things is what makes his heart melt. His son just wants to learn more about the world, little by little, and starting with the existence of robots.

"I dunno m'boy but I'm sure we can try and find out while we're getting you ready for bed."

Roland rises and deflates so quickly that one might've missed it had they blinked. "Aw man," he whines.

Seems he's forgotten about their frozen dairy secret.

"But first you better come kiss your Mommy goodbye, young man," Marian patronizes.

Roland says no more and hops off of the couch to toddle over to Marian and jump into her arms. They squeeze each other tightly for a minute or two before Marian finally announces that she really needs to go because 'Auntie 'Gina' is waiting for her. (Smooth slip, that was.)

Roland's entire demeanor changes once more to an elation Robin hasn't really seen from his son since, well, the last time that Regina had been home.

"Auntie 'Gina is home?!" he exclaims.

"Yes, honey." Marian nods, reflecting Roland's grin onto her own features.

"Is she outside? Did she bring me more presents from Mulan?"

"It's Milan sweetie, and no she isn't but don't worry, I'm sure she wants to see you very soon, so I'm sure Daddy and I can see if we can get her to come over for dinner sometime this upcoming week. How about that?"

"Okay!"

"Okay, baby, well, Mommy has to go so she can talk to Auntie 'Gina about coming over. You be good for Daddy, okay? And please make sure your Daddy gets you to bed at a decent hour, deal?"

"Deal pickle," Roland corroborates, using a popular confirmation phrase in the Locksley household, or rather the Maiden household because that was not a phrase Robin had used before moving to Atlanta.

Marian finally puts Roland back on the couch and heads to the door, Robin following closely behind.

"We should really have her over soon, y'know. I'm sure it would mean a lot to Regina if you came to see her," she tells him upon reaching their destination.

Oh, he knows what it means because whatever it means to her is tenfold for him and in and of itself already means too much.

"I know, we'll see. Have a lovely night darling and you two try not to get into too much trouble, alright?" He places a gentle kiss upon her cheek.

"Oh, of course not. And the same for you, boys."

"Naturally," smiles impishly but not for Marian to see, as she's opening the door, back turned to him.

She doesn't even respond, simply marches straight out the door into the calming twilight befalling their house. He watches as she goes, eyes following her until she's in the car and driving off to wherever it is that Regina Mills awaits—wherever a new extension to the family, all that Robin Locksley has, awaits.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A:N:**_ _Hey, everyone. Firstly, we'd like to thank you all who have already followed, favorited, and reviewed, it's meant so much to us. Now that we'll be diving more into the actual plot, hopefully you'll continue to read and enjoy!_

* * *

The Rabbit Hole is as crowded, or rather lack there of, as Regina would expect for a Thursday evening. A pub not far from UGA, most of the clientele is college-aged patrons, along with a handful of fellow adults, who are occupying a couple stools around the square bar positioned in the center of the establishment, as well as filling a few of the tables and booths scattered about.

She can't remember the last time she's stepped foot in this bar.

Breathing in a deep, fortifying breath, she struts, with as much confidence she can muster, breezing past the heady concoction of repressed recollections and the fragrance of fried chicken overwhelming her senses, up to the bar, carved from a laurel oak tree, an unusual carpentry substance, but is one of the state's native shrubs, lending even more of a homey feel to the joint.

"Hey there," The bartender, a young man whose nametag, pinned to his charcoal colored button up, displays Sean, greets warmly and handing her a menu, "What can I get for you?"

Regina returns the server's smile, requesting a vodka tonic with extra lime and a bowl of cajun, boiled peanuts, her stomach protesting with a loud grumble at the very notion of refusing anything to nibble on until Marian arrives.

She perches easily onto one of the backless seats, though the leather material poses a challenge to the sweat-slicked skin her dress exposes, and she drums her fingers, to the rhythm of the Skynyrd song resonating low through the Rabbit Hole's speakers, along the counter beside where she placed her purse.

Sean returns, bearing Regina's drink and her snack, "Here ya go. Did you have a chance to look over the menu?"

"I'm actually waiting for a friend," Regina responds after thanking him for her cocktail and dipping her fingers into the dish, to retrieve a few of the seasoned nuts.

"Not a problem," He nods politely, bending to retrieve another bill of fare, setting it to the left of her, "Just call me over, or you can grab Ashley when she passes by." She doesn't miss the sparkle in his eyes, nor the additional tip upwards of his lips when he gestures to the blonde waitress gliding across the hardwood floor. Of course even the on-duty bartender would serve as a reminder that Regina is sitting solo, amongst a room of duos and groups, as she waits.

A memory wriggles itself free from the confines of her mind at the thought, taking her back to an 18-year-old, University of Georgia freshman, Regina Mills, standing alone, in the corner of a bustling space in the Richard B. Russell Building, her T-Mobile Sidekick pressed firmly against her ear.

 _"I still don't understand why you couldn't come with me," Regina bemoans, scolding Marian's laugh on the other end of the line, "I'm serious! Everyone here is with someone."_

 _"You're being dramatic. It probably only looks that way because they're actually mixing, you know, what you're supposed to do at a_ _ **mixer**_ _," Marian ribs good-naturedly, "Besides, what the hell would I have talked about in a room of book nerds? I'm barely making it through the 'Twilight' sequel."_

 _Allowing her friend's questionable choice in literary taste to fumble between them, she sighs, "It's not 'book nerds', it's freshman with interest in Lit majors."_

 _"Sounds like your kind of nerds to me. So why are you sitting in a corner, talking to me?"_

 _"I'm standing," Regina feebly argues, tucking herself further against the wall, eyeing her fellow students, who seem to mingling with the ease she is lacking as she cringes at an obnoxious giggle vibrating from the opposite side of the room._

 _She can almost hear Marian's dark, oval orbs rolling as her friend says, "I am hanging up. Not only did Professor Fisher schedule a test on a Saturday, but it's tomorrow morning and I still can't get a grasp on tundra vs. taiga biomes. I just hate the cold, period," The acidic btterness enveloping the voice of the typically sweet-tempered young woman makes Regina chuckle, until she hears a frustrated huff, followed by a stern, "Now go dazzle everyone! Try not to trip on those stilts you're wearing."_

 _"Some of us can walk without looking like a baby giraffe, dear," She argues, mildly annoyed and signs off, "And thanks, again, for abandoning me, Maiden."_

 _"Anytime, Mills."_

 _Regina exhales her frustration and ends the call. As she spins around on the ball of her foot, her heel sticks in the carpet and she suddenly finds herself propelled against a hard body, large, calloused hands with a warm touch grasping her bare upper arms, steadying her._

 _"Watch where you're going," Regina snarls, yet can't force herself to escape the stranger's hold._

 _"A simple 'thank you' would suffice, milady."_

 _At the accented, rich voice of the person she collided with, her gaze is drawn upwards, meeting the stare- the deep, ocean-blue stare- of a young man with light brown hair and light, fair skin. He has a strong jaw, covered in a thin veil of facial stubble but not enough to conceal the cocky smirk on his thin lips._

 _Regina narrows her eyes, pulling her arms from the British boy's grip , "Thank you? For what?_ _Barreling_ _into me? That's not happening."_

 _"Just as me 'barreling into you' didn't happen," He points out, "I saved you from falling on your arse."_

 _She folds her arms in front of her chest, a surge of defiance thrumming through her veins, "I wouldn't have fallen."_

 _"Really? Because it looks like you already fell... from Heaven."_

 _Regina can't help it, the burst of laughter that erupts from her mouth, it's an involuntary reaction. Though, she notices she's garnered a few stares from her momentary lapse of self-control, so she covers her mouth with her hand, composing herself then asking through a stifled giggle, "Did you really just use a centuries old pick-up line on me?"_

 _She expects him to be offended, embarrassed actually, but instead he smiles, flashing her a sight of pearly whites encased by a matching pair of dimples imprinted in his skin. "Quite dreadful, isn't it?" He murmurs conspiratorially, causing her brow to furrow in confusion until he explains, "Some sorry bloke used it on that red-head over there and I swear my own brain cells deteriorated as she believed it."_

 _Regina snorts, glancing across the room, "And here I thought this would be an intellectual event."_

 _"May have been a tad too much to hope for, milady."_

 _She looks back at him, this alluring, if not arrogant stranger, whose face is still displaying the traces of humor he found in his prior stunt, "So was this a test?"_

 _"Of sorts," He shrugs, but never losing that smile that Regina keeps finding her eyes attracted to, "I prefer to see if my friends have the same sense of humor as I do."_

 _"Friend'?" She parrots back, incredulously, "I don't remember asking you to be a friend of mine."_

 _"And yet here I am," He outstretches his hand, one that was used to hold her just minutes ago, one whose heat she misses on her arm, "Robin Locksley."_

 _Regina looks down at Robin's hand, looks at his patient expression, back to the extremity, rolling her eyes as she hears him gently mock, "You're s_ _u_ _pposed to shake it."_

 _She does just that, connecting their hands in the firm, powerful grip her mother instilled in her, "Regina Mills." She can't stop herself from staring into his eyes, drowning in the blue hue, much like the craters he passes for dimples and she pulls her hand from his grasp, hastily, when she realizes it. "So, you're interested in pursuing literature?"_

 _"I'm more interested in media like film and television, perhaps producing or directing? But you need a good story to accomplish either of those, so I thought perhaps it'd do well for me to brush up more on my writing"_

 _"You could always just hire a decent writer."_

 _"Aye, indeed. Are you offering?"_

 _She scoffs, but can't resist being amused by the playful banter, "You don't even know if I write. Maybe I'm here for the same reason you are. Or the free food."_

 _"I highly doubt that, you've been holed up over here all night," Robin comments and it has Regina's mouth gaping for a second or two._

 _"You've been watching me?"_

 _Robin shrugs once more, leaning his shoulder against the wall, "Well I wouldn't word it as conceited as that, but I've occasionally seen you throughout the night. It's not difficult to miss, what with your proximity being the only thing to hold up this wall."_

 _"Haha," Regina sneers in response, ducks her head as her fingers fiddle with her phone, "I had wanted my friend to come with me tonight, but she's busy and not as interested in this type of thing."_

 _She isn't sure why she's confiding this in him, has known the man for mere minutes and they've spent most of that time volleying snark between them, but it feels natural, as if his presence is a comfort._

 _"Ah," He nods in understanding, "My roommate is quite similar. He's a pre-vet major so if it's not 'Black Beauty', he's not that keen."_

 _"At least it's a classic," Regina reminds with a chortle, "It's just awkward being here without Marian, she's been the only one I really know here."_

 _"Until now."_

How right Robin had been- until _now._

Regina is brought out of her remembrance by the sound of heels click-clacking against the floor behind her and her appreciation of fashionable footwear has her turning around, finding herself admiring peep-toe pumps, black in hue with silver studs adorning them. Not high-quality, she can tell, but a laudable pair of shoes nonetheless.

"Okay, Your Majesty," Regina's vision is hastily directed up the toned, bronzed legs and the slim, cinched torso encased in a simple halter dress connected to the heels she'd been ogling, her mouth hanging agape as she discovers Marian smirking back at her, "Do these stilts impress?"

Regina composes herself and teasingly scoffs, "I can't believe you're wearing appropriate footwear like an actual grown woman."

"Well, I didn't know if someone of your status could be seen with someone in 'peasant' wear."

"I'd make an exception for you, Maid, you should know that," She grins, scooting herself off of her seat and no sooner than when her own heels contact the floor are the two women in one another's arms, whoever tackled the other a moot point, as they hug and laugh and, for just a moment, as she always does when she reunites with Marian, Regina permits the dissipation of all her inner turmoil, wallowing in her oldest friend's embrace.

Both beaming from ear-to-ear, the Georgia natives retract from their mutual clutch, with Marian giving Regina a once over, "You look beautiful, as usual."

"Back atcha, mama," She sincerely compliments, still amazed, five years later, how marvelous Marian looks after having a kid, though a tad slimmer than the last visit, Regina notes, a key eye for these things after years sharing clothes. Still, she wonders if she'd be able to regain a pre-pregnancy body as well as Roland's mother has.

Regina finds purchase back on her stool, as Marian slips onto the one beside her, squeaking pleasantly at the sight of the boiled peanuts before her and pinching a petty handful for herself after she orders a Chardonnay from Sean; the twosome settling into the other's presence seamlessly, as if no time has passed. If only.

"Do you still come here often?" Regina asks, her eyes finally flitting from various fixtures in the bar, from the brick wall on the right side of the establishment to the opposite wall, painted a shade of russet brown, which is covered with an ecletic variety of frames, containing local artists' works to the pool table, with the same unmistakable tequila stain near one of the corner pockets, wedged into the corner. How is that, simultaneously, nothing and everything has changed here?

Marian shrugs her shoulders, popping a few more peanuts into her mouth and answering between chews, "Eh, once in awhile. After a long night, me and any of the other nurses ending their shift will come here and grab something to eat before going home since it's one of the few places open."

Regina surprises herself as the next question spills past her lips, "And Robin?"

The bartender arrives in front of the two of them again, this time passing Marian's glass of wine to her, which she thanks with her usual sweet smile and a nod of her head. After she swallows a sip, she licks her lips and glances down at the bar, "He found a sports bar closer to the studio that he likes."

In other words, no, Robin has not stepped foot into the Rabbit Hole. Regina cannot resist snorting, "So he's been avoiding."

Marian's hand pauses mid-air above the dish of nuts, shooting Regina a pointed glare as she turns her head to face her, "Says the woman who spent the last five years traveling the world just to get away from here."

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" It spits out with more rancor than she had meant, but before she can mutter out an apology, Marian is interrupting the brief pause.

"And you've no idea how happy I am that you are."

Regina sighs, meeting the sincere stare of her college roommate, then admits, "I am, too. And I have to thank you for being your stubborn self and prodding me to do it." She playfully nudges Marian's knee with her knuckles.

"Oh yes, _I'm_ the stubborn one," Marian drawls, rolling her eyes with a smirk dancing across her lips, "Now are we going to order or not? I'm starving."

"I guess some things really don't change," Regina murmurs beneath her breath, then waves the bartender back towards them.

The two women place their orders, spicy fried octopus with a side of steak fries for Marian, a woman who had a never-ending appetite, it's always seemed, while Regina folds beneath the familiarity of her surroundings, opting for chicken and dumplings as opposed to a salad or some other sort of greens.

"Roland can't wait to see you, I even have instructions to extend a dinner invitation to you sometime this week," Marian starts once Sean has scurried away to place their orders through a computer system, "Even asked if you were waiting outside with 'Mulan' presents."

Oh that child is adorable. A perfect mixture of Robin and Marian in appearance and as he grows, personality, whatever feelings of anguish or guilt or remorse Regina has felt is a moot point, Roland having her wrapped around his tiny finger since she held him after he'd been born (her first trip home after having jet off, in fact), doing nothing to lessen the ticking of her biological clock.

"So I'm only welcome if I come bearing presents?"

"Obviously," Marian concurs, continuing the jest, swallowing another sip of her wine.

"Well, I did actually bring him back a little something from Okinawa."

"Oh geez. We may have to actually ban you until you stop spoiling him. No wonder he loves Auntie 'Gina so much," The mother of one teases with faux aggravation, "What were you doing in Japan anyway?"

"Buying my favorite little hobbit presents," Regina winks, then sighs, nipping at her drink, "Same old, same old. Conflicts, leaders, conferences..."

"Oh my," She paraphrases _The Wizard of Oz_ , with a snicker, "Not exactly the creative path you wanted to take your writing."

Regina shrugs, frowning a bit as says, "A job is a job. Plus, complaining about getting to travel the world just makes me sound like a bitch."

"No, it doesn't. I'm sure Robin would much rather be creating his own show, but he does the best he can with what he has, just like you," Suddenly her voice is infused with hope as she exclaims, "Y'all should collaborate together! Like the good ol' days, it may be a good outlet for both of you."

Regina resists wincing at the mention, hating how wonderful the idea actually sounds, "Well, I'm sure he's busy and I'm just starting this job so we'll just have to set our creativity aside."

"Fine," Marian sighs exasperation evident in her tone, "But you aren't too busy for dinner this week, right? I'm actually scared to go home and tell Roland you declined."

"I would never say no to Roland, you know that; I'll be there."

"Great! We can make plans this weekend, or after you lay out your schedule. Are you excited for your first day on Monday?"

"Marian, it's not the first day of school," Regina reminds with a laugh, but bobs her head along in spite of herself, "A little, yeah. It'll be interesting to be the 'boss'."

"A role you were born for, surely," Marian encourages with a sly smile.

"Marian Locksley, are you calling me bossy?" Regina gasps exaggeratedly, tossing a peanut at her friend who giggles at the snack attack.

"Oh, I would never, Your Majesty," She amends with all the sincerity of a mock apology, reaching into the nearly empty bowl and scooping up the last of cajun-flavored treat, "Your penalty for the unnecessary assault."

Regina chuckles, raising her voice to garner the bartender's attention, asking for a refill on their small appetizer. When he obliges, sliding a new dish in front of the two women, she notices Marian tapping away at her phone.

Her friend looks up, offering a sheepish smile and an apology, legitimate this time, as she returns her mobile to her purse, "Sorry about that. Robin-"

Regina is thankful for the brief pause on the beginning of that conversation as the blonde waitress Sean had pointed out earlier arrives beside them with a tray of two dishes, asking whose is whose and doling them out accordingly. She and Marian thank the young woman, who gives them an "Enjoy!" then scuttles away, blowing Sean a kiss as she does.

"This looks delicious. I've had such a hankerin' for octopus and I don't know why," Marian admits, already digging into her dish, munching away at a fry.

Regina gulps, staring down at her own meal before she offers, "Maybe your pregnant?"

She refuses to look at Marian's face after the suggestion, but the answer comes quickly, a resolute "no", followed by a breathy laugh.

Well, if she's surely not and the topic is already broached, now's as good a time as any.

Reeling in a deep breath that she blows out through her nose, Regina begins, "Speaking of that..."

Suddenly, a fork is clanking against a plate which causes Regina to start at the clatter and Marian sputters, barely managing to digest her bite of octopus, "Are you pregnant?!"

"As flattering as it is that you're so shocked," She teases, then sets her own cutlery down as she faces her friend, "I want to become a mother."

"Oh my god," Marian speaks slowly, her face lighting up beneath the hanging bulbs of the Rabbit Hole's bar, "Regina, that is awesome! I've always known you would be a great mom."

Regina pushes a stray hair behind her ear, not at all confident in that compliment, which she expresses, but grateful nonetheless. "You're the first to know."

"I'm honored. So, how is this going to happen?"

"I thought about adopting, even contacted an agency when I decided that I'd be living here long-term," She explains, though tiptoes around the word "permanently", for reasons she can't even bring herself to analyze. She wets her lips, casting her eyes down to her hands, the admission harder to verbalize than she anticipated, "And maybe I will adopt one day, but... I want to carry a baby, just once in my life. I want to feel what it's like to pregnant, want to know what it's like to bring someone, someone who would be a piece of me, someone with my blood who I can, for once, knows love me unconditionally, into this world."

"Regina, there's nothing shameful in that. There are millions of women across the world who are physically unable to give birth and if you are one of the lucky ones who are able to, you shouldn't deprive yourself that privilege, not when we both know how short life is," Marian coos, covering Regina's hand with her own, both of their entrees completely forgotten at this point.

She blinks a few times, can feel an unwelcome moisture stinging at her eyes at the vague reference to Daniel, to Orlando five years ago, to blood and heartbreak and a time that seems so distant, yet so close at hand.

But it's not about that, for once, not now. Now, Regina is going to have a family, have a home, something she's dreamt of since she was a small child with an overbearing mother and a father who tried his best, but was often too busy.

Fortunately, Marian focuses the conversation back, inquiring, "So what steps do you have to do to make this happen?"

"Well, I've been checked out by a doctor and I'm fertile and healthy and she thinks I'm a prime candidate for pregnancy, it seems, so next is going and finding a sperm donor."

Marian's nose scrunches up, all of a sudden, "So some anonymous guy?"

"Unless I track them down on the street, yes," Regina confirms, laughing, finally taking a scrumptious bite of dumpling. She finishes the morsel, then says, "It's a great system, it's helped plenty of women and families like me have children."

Marian is in the medical profession, she knows this, of that Regina is certain, so she can't quite grasp why her friend is refuting this notion, nor the look of contemplation that passes through her eyes, "But wouldn't it be easier with someone you know? Someone who can support you?"

"Yes," Regina hisses, irritation bubbling within her, "But not all of us have someone like you do, Marian, and the whole point of this is so that I don't have to wait around until I find someone."

"But what if you already had someone?"

Regina shoves a forkful of chicken into her mouth, chewing as she snorts, "Like who?"

"Robin."

Time stops. Breathing ceases. Her heart halts.

Regina sputters, nearly choking on her food, as she rushes it down with a generous sip of her drink, "Please tell me this is your bad attempt at making a joke."

But as she looks at Marian, sees the resolve on her face, she, unbelievably, knows her friend is serious, "Why would I joke about this?"

"Why would you be _serious_ about this?!"

"Regina, you want, no- you _deserve_ to have a child. Robin has the means of making that happen that you don't. Plus, he's an amazing father to Roland, you know this, he'd be the same to this baby."

"You are asking me to have a child- with your husband," Regina counters, trying and, apparently, failing, to point out the absurdity of the proposal her friend just made.

"I'm offering you a chance to, for once, not to be alone. There are many things that you've had to do solo, and have done flawlessly, I'm sure being a parent would be no different, but you don't _have_ to, not this time," Marian is passionate about this, why Regina has no clue, but it's clear in her friend's determined stare.

"And your husband? What in the hell makes you think he would ever even consider this arrangement?"

"Because he loves me," She replies, as if it's the simplest answer and, for her, it is. For Regina, on the other hand, it's a foreign concept, and it doesn't relieve the constriction around her heart when Marian continues, connecting a comforting hand to Regina's knee, "And he loves you, too. Of course, I'll have to discuss it with him, but, Regina, we've been family for years, this would just cement that, albeit a bit more unconventionally..."

"'Unconventional'?" Regina yelps, her blood stuttering in her veins. "You are suggesting your husband and your best friend having a child together. No, that's not at all strange, let alone bordering on being worthy of institutionalization," Regina sarcastically grouses, tossing back the rest of her vodka tonic.

"It's not like I'm renting y'all a hotel room and lighting candles... Although, all it took for Robin's swimmers before was a couple Kamikaze shooters and a broken condom, and that conception wasn't even intentional, imagine the success if it were," Regina feels her eyes expand to the size of saucers, her breath coiling around her windpipe like a vice until Marian rolls her eyes, releasing a chuckle, "Would you relax? I'm just kidding."

"Oh thank God," She deflates, ignoring the small stab of disappointment piercing the depths of her belly, bracing her hands flat against the counter, guffawing, "I knew you wouldn't be serious over something so outrageous as loaning out your husband's sperm."

"Regina, I just kidding about doing it the 'old-fashioned' way, but not about Robin being the father."

Regina, for her part, shakes her head, not believing the conversation she's immersed in, "You're crazy. They shouldn't let you around drugs every day."

Marian smirks, "I'm perfectly sane. And if you'd think about this, Regina, you would know it makes sense. We've been through so much already, why not this? Why not experience this with people who care about you and support you?"

"You talked about how anonymous sperm donors have worked for people and you know I agree and think it's an integral factor in the medical field, but most of those people didn't have a choice in the matter, you do and I'm offering it to you right now. Robin as your donor, as your baby's father- just think about it."

Think about having Robin's baby—suffice to say, Regina has a feeling she'll think of nothing else for quite some time.


End file.
